I can’t lie – at this stage of his life, I spend his birthdays wondering if he’ll be around to celebrate his next one. It’s morbid, I know, but that’s where my mind goes.

He’s fourteen, but sometimes, it’s hard to believe he’s this old because he’s still got tons of energy, barely any gray hair, and all of his teeth (heh). He shows his old age in his grumpiness, which showcases itself mostly at night. He just gets a bit growly and mean if you try to disturb him while he sleeps… I can’t tell you how many times my roommate or I have said, “Ugh, he looks so cute and I want to snuggle him, but I’m afraid he’ll bite me.”

He also shows his old age in his peanut-size bladder. Oy vey, is this the most annoying part of caring for Dutch. He requires upwards of seven walks a day because he just cannot hold it anymore. (And when I say “walks,” this sometimes means just stepping outside to let him pee; it takes about five minutes.) I like to say he’s very “IDGAF” because if he has to go and I don’t let him out assoonaspossiblehurryupMomIneedtogoooo, he’ll just pee on the floor. In front of me. Without a care in the world. How very dachshund of him!

Dutch went through a lot in this past year, so let’s review:

He pinched a nerve in his back, which I think happened during a grooming appointment at PetSmart. For a few weeks, he was limping around and unable to run up and down our stairs.

He met his favorite celebrity dachshund – Crusoe! – and spent time carousing with other dachshunds at the beach.

He had a UTI that lasted for more than a month – poor dude! That was a really, really hard time for all of us.

He moved to Tampa and endeared himself to a new roommate, who loves him like a child.

He participated in his fourth Running of the Wieners race, and he placed second in his heat.

He was violently ill with a bacterial infection, which cleared up instantly after a day on antibiotics.

Age thirteen included a lot of visits to the vet, which is just par for the course with a senior dog. Still, I am hoping age fourteen is a lot less crazy and we can go more than three months between vet visits (praying hands emoji). Taking care of a senior dog can be very difficult, and I don’t think I realized just how difficult until I moved out and am now taking care of him on my own. My roommate is terrific and helps me out whenever she can, and my mom is always around to help, but the truth is, he’s my #1 responsibility now. And it can be hard taking him out seven times a day, especially since I live in an apartment and can’t just let him out in the backyard. It also means I have to schedule my life around his walks – I can’t be gone for an entire day unless my roommate is around to let him out. My life is scheduled in four-hour increments.

But if this is my biggest issue with Dutch, I guess we’re doing okay. He’s been tested for everything under the sun to ensure his incessant need to go out isn’t an underlying condition, and it’s not. He’s fine – he’s just old and now has to pee a lot.

It’s hard to know how to put into words how much this dog means to me. He’s more than a pet. He’s my sidekick, my little buddy, my love. He’s the best part of my day and he makes me the happiest.

My grandma taught me a lot – about life, about love, about what it means to be a good person. She was one of the best humans on this earth. She was giving, kind, compassionate. Even when she was at her sickest, she never faltered in her positivity and tenacious spirit. I wouldn’t be the woman I am today if it wasn’t for my grandma. Every decision I make, there is always this underlying question I ask myself, “Would this make my grandma proud?” (Which, to be honest, can be quite the difficult question to answer when making a not-so-smart choice, as we’re wont to do!)

She was always more than a grandma to me, but someone I considered a mentor and a friend.

So, with all this in mind, I wanted to write a post on some of the life lessons my grandma taught me.

1. Family first – always.

My grandma raised six children (five boys! And one perfect angel of a daughter – my mama!). She also helped to raise three more children (a godson and two grandchildren), and in the past three years, has been helping to raise another child (a great-grandchild). My grandma was all about family – she was happiest rocking a baby, she loved big family get-togethers, and lavished all her attention on her kids. When I was younger, my brother and I would spend countless entire weekends at her house and she was always so happy to have us there. Grandma taught me the importance of family.

2. The most important relationship you’ll have in life is your relationship with God.

My grandma was a devout Christian and believed in God with her full heart. Her belief in God was inspirational because she was one of those people who had a real relationship with Jesus. She lived and breathed her faith. She was one of those people who could pull out a Bible verse from her head to provide comfort for anything someone was going through. She was the one who taught me about the Bible, about Noah and Abraham and Jonah and Paul. She was the one who taught me to pray, and while it breaks my heart that I’ll never again be comforted by her prayers for me again, I’m so grateful I was the recipient of them for so many years, especially the ones I never heard. Grandma taught me about the comfort that is believing in something bigger than yourself. She taught me how important a relationship with God is.

3. A positive attitude will take you far.

When I think of my grandma, I try not to remember the lady she was in the hospital, but I try to remember who she innately was – someone who always had a smile for me, who would always laugh at my jokes (no matter how lame!). She exuded positivity throughout her entire life. Her positive attitude is what helped her through multiple cancer diagnoses, through countless rounds of chemotherapy, through the hard nights and dark days. Grandma taught me to find positivity in the everyday, and that the mind is a powerful instrument in fighting the body.

4. Making people feel loved, appreciated, and special is one of the best gifts you can give to the world.

There’s an quote by Maya Angelou that states, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” My grandma embodied that quote so much. She made people feel good. She made them feel accepted and loved and valued and cherished. Whenever I was around her, my spirits instantly lifted and I felt better about myself and my life. Grandma taught me that everyone is deserving of love.

5. Chocolate is a cure for most everything.

I definitely have my grandma to thank for my raging sweet tooth. She loved chocolate, baked goods, all sweets. For grandma, problems were solved through a sweet treat. When my mom left my father, my mom, brother, and I all moved in with my grandparents. That period of time was difficult, but my fondest memories of that time were the nights spent around the kitchen table – just my grandma, my mom, and me – drinking hot chocolate and eating something sweet, talking about life and reminiscing on the past. Grandma taught me to love your guilty pleasures and to never apologize for them.

6. Find the humor in all things.

My grandma loved to laugh and she had a lighthearted way about her. She knew how to laugh at herself, and being a mom of six kids, she had to learn how to laugh and roll with the punches. Grandma taught me to find the humor in life. Life can be tragic and heartbreaking, but mostly, it’s fun and crazy and hilarious. Laughter is medicine for the soul.

7. You are not your circumstances.

One of the biggest lessons my grandma taught me was this one. She was never a victim. She never questioned why or blamed God or complained about her cancer diagnosis. And maybe, deep in the corners of her mind or when she was alone with my grandpa, she allowed those thoughts to seep through, but even if she did, she never lived in a victimized way. She was a woman who had cancer, not a cancer patient. Grandma taught me that I am not my anxiety, I am not my weight, I am not my singleness. I am Stephany – and that is perfectly enough.

8. Invest in relationships.

My grandma was never a passive participant in her relationships. She was active and always, always interested in the lives of other people. She kept in touch. I mean, her best friend and her were friends for 48 years! Can you imagine having a friend for that long? My grandma had so many people who came to see her at the end, which is a testament to the impact she had on others. Grandma taught me to take the time to be a friend, no matter how busy life gets.

“Jenny’s going to have the baby soon,” she told me on Thursday, after showing me a picture my sister-in-law had posted of her belly on Facebook.

My sister-in-law, Jenny, wasn’t due for another two weeks (she was scheduled to have a C-section on March 2), but, in that photo, I saw that her belly had dropped pretty significantly since the last time I saw her and she looked ready to pop.

“I don’t think she’s making it to March.”

I agreed with my mom, but I did not expect to be holding my new nephew in my arms a mere two days later.

Dominic Jacob, my brand-new nephew, came into the world on Saturday, February 21, weighing 8 lbs, 6 ounces. He has chunky cheeks, arm and leg rolls, and a wonderful set of lungs. He is the spitting image of what my nephew, Jovy, looked like as a newborn. He is perfect.

There’s really something special about being an aunt. Our bond is so much different than that of a parent or a grandparent. Since my nephews have two other aunts, I’ve had to figure out where my place is. What is my role? How am I going to connect with my nephew(s)? The truth of the matter is that I’m not much of a kid person, which is funny because I worked in a preschool for almost three years. But I’m just not. I think kids are great and fun and wonderful… but I just don’t connect with them. So I’ve had to figure out this aunt thing… what it meant for me, what I wanted it to be. And I’m still figuring it out because it changes with each new stage and age. Right now, with my oldest nephew, I’m here to have fun. I’m here to listen and let him be heard. I’m here to joke with him and introduce him to books and reading. I’m here to help him when he needs it, but let him have independence. I’m just always here. I may not be the most outspoken and I may not be the one he goes to when he needs comfort, but I’m always here. That’s my role.

It’s astonishing to me that it was six whole years ago that I stood in a hospital room similar to the one I stood in on Saturday, holding my first nephew for the first time. I was 20 years old, intent on gaining my degree in education, and in my final teaching internship. (It would be a month later that I left that internship.) These six years have seen so much growth, both for me and obviously for my nephew. Now, he’s got this whole life of his own! He has best friends and favorite TV shows and movie quotes he spouts off. He is funny and smart and silly. He can read and write and even teach me how to play games on his Nintendo Wii.

Maybe I was the only one, but I was nervous to see how he would react to his little brother. He’s been the only child for six-and-a-half years… would he be jealous of Dominic?

Oh, but this boy loves his little brother. He loves holding him. He pats his back when he’s crying. He shushes people who are talking too loudly when he’s sleeping. On Sunday, when we were all at the hospital again, he was holding his brother and said to my sister-in-law, “I am happy the baby is here” (pointing to Dominic laying in his arms) “and not in there!” (pointing to Jenny’s belly). Total adoration.

Dominic is going to adore his big brother and his big brother is going to adore him right back. Dominic is so blessed to have that boy as his big brother. I hope they always have that adoration for one another. The sibling bond is such a strong one. I have always adored my big brother. Even though we fought like crazy growing up, he’s always been one of my closest friends and favorite person. There’s really no way to describe the strength of our bond. We’ve gone through so much together and he’s always been there for me. He’s been my protector, my life coach, the one who will always stick up for me. Things are not rosy all the time. We still fight. We don’t see eye-to-eye on everything. But I know he always has my back and I always have his. So I’m really excited to see my nephews’ bond grow because I know how special the sibling bond is.

I just can’t wait to watch this new nephew of mine grow up (though, please, Dominic, take your time!) I’m so excited to see how he differs from Jovy. Will he be more laid-back? More serious? More of a daredevil? More outspoken? I can’t wait to find out.

Welcome to the world, Dominic Jacob. You are so very loved and so very adored. All I want for you is what I’ve always wanted for your brother: I want you to feel free to express yourself in any way you want. I want you to feel loved. I want you to know you can do anything you set your mind to. You have a wonderful mother and father who love you fiercely. You have two grandmas and a grandfather who would do anything for you. And you have three aunts who completely adore you. We all want you to be happy, to be healthy, and to set the world on fire. I’m behind you 100 percent. Love, your Titi Stephany.

I’ve been going back and forth with myself lately, feeling this need to talk about something I’m going through, but knowing it involves another person and it’s always dicey to talk about things that involve multiple people. But I’ve had a few people ask me about this and I feel like I should talk about it.

The last day of January, I broke up with my boyfriend.

We broke up for a variety of reasons, which I’m not going to discuss because it’s not my place. I will say that the breakup was mutual and it was drama-free. I still think he is a great guy; he just was not the guy for me.

What has been most interesting for me has been my process through the breakup. I mean, let’s be honest: it’s not as if this was a long-term relationship. We were together for a little over a month, but as someone who likes to refer to herself as “chronically single” and does not really date, to give myself over to a relationship for even a short amount of time is a Big Thing for me.

But I’m not here to talk about dating or our relationship. Rather, I want to discuss my guilt.

You see, ever since we made the decision to break things off, I’ve been outrageously happy. My immediate reaction to the breakup was one of relief (which is telling, yes?) and since it happened, I’ve been… happy. Really, really happy.

I’m happy in my singleness. I’ve always identified with being single. I’ve never been the girl that needed a boyfriend. I was single through high school, single through college, and have remained single in my post-collegiate life. I don’t have insane dating stories. I don’t have a ton of ex-boyfriends littering my past. I don’t spend my days perfecting my online dating profile. My weekends are filled with things solely for me: freelancing, time with friends, time with my mom and my brother and my nephew, reading, working out, writing.

I never realized how much I craved the independence that a single life brings me than I do right now. And, yes, I’m certain people who are in serious relationships also have their own independence and I’m not saying that can’t exist, but it’s just different. It’s different when there’s no one to check in with, no one to worry about. When I can make the plans based on my schedule alone, and not anyone else’s. I suppose I’m just in this time of my life where I want to be single because I’ve yet to find the guy I’m willing to give up my independence for.

And maybe it’s also the introverted HSP in me – a girl who has limited amounts of energy, and who needs incredible amounts of alone time to recharge. I can’t spend entire weekends away from home. I get depleted, I get tired, I get upset. I need my home, my bed, my dog, my comforts. I need quiet, relaxation, peace, stillness. I need it more than most people. I need it to stay sane, to stay in tune to myself.

So being single again doesn’t feel awful. I’m not sad about being single, not sad about the breakup. I’m relieved and I’m happy and I feel so satisfied and content with the life I’m building. It’s a good life. It’s a really good life. And, right now, that life just doesn’t seem to have a place for a romantic relationship. There are other things I want to expend my time and energy on.

But I feel guilty feeling this way. I feel as if I’m wasting time – I’m in the latter half of my twenties, this is prime time! This is when I should be dating, should be settling down, should be considering building a family. And yet… none of that appeals to me right now.

And even though I’m happy and I feel fulfilled and content… there is guilt. There is worry that if I stay content and happy in my singleness, then I’ll grow comfortable and complacent and not ever try to move on to the next season of my life. That I’m wasting my most precious years, holding tight to my singleness.

I mentioned this to Nora, whom I could also consider my life coach for all the pep talks she gives me. She is wise and brilliant and completely understands me because she was in my shoes once, too. And this is what she told me (I stole part of our conversation because I want to remember it forever and ever amen): “Be you. It makes you happy. The rest will come when it’s meant to. You’re not wasting time. You’re becoming and are the person you are meant to be. You have the rest of your life to be with someone, to love them. Don’t feel guilty!”

Wise, right? And so completely right. The single life makes me happy right now. It’s not wasting time to be completely in love with being single and want to spend time focusing on myself, discovering more deeply what I want out of life. I’ve known for a long time that I’m someone who likes to swim against the current. I dance to the beat of my own drum, do things a bit differently than other people. I’m not going to be the girl dating around, worried more about finding a partner to build a life with than building a life I love on my own. And I’m young! I’m 27! I have so much of life yet to live and I want to live it the best way I know how. Whether that includes meeting someone in the next few months, the next few years, when I’m in my forties, or never, I’m going to build a life I am proud of. And I’m going to stop feeling guilty and start appreciating this season of my life.

I’ll admit that every now and then, I’ll succumb to the draw of The Bachelorette, and this season, I’ve been watching. It’s research! (Right?) So, a couple weeks ago, it was “hometown” week where the bachelorette meets with each remaining contestant in their hometown to get to know their family. And, during one visit, a contestant’s sister sat down with her brother and asked him this question: can you be yourself with her, unapologetically?

Ooh, that’s good. That’s real good.

I’m not dating right now because I needed to step away and figure myself out. I felt that I was dating just to date, because it was what I was supposed to be doing. Every time I would hear about another person I knew finding love, my heart would sink, my stomach would knot up, and I would fall into a downward spiral of panic and anxiety and wondering when it would be my turn. If it would ever be my turn.

So, this quote really made me step back and think. Everyone says you have to love yourself before you can love another, and I always thought that was a little cheesy and hokey. But maybe loving yourself isn’t so much about standing in front of the mirror and saying, “You are beautiful and funny and nice!” but about being unapologetically yourself.

Maybe that’s what’s missing.

People say that your twenties are a period of self-exploration. I won’t lie – my twenties have been a bumpy, bumpy road. I look at people in their thirties and they seem so self-assured and as if they know themselves and where they are going. And me? Oh, goodness, I am fumbling around in the dark. I’m confused and worried and upset and annoyed, yet also satisfied and content and happy and excited. Oh, it’s a whirlwind, the twenties are!

I’ve been reading through posts I wrote when I started this blog – and I was just 21 when I started it. I was a baby! I feel so sad for that girl because she was really, really confused. This is a girl who didn’t have any friends (no, really, my mom was the only person I hung out with), who didn’t quite know herself. And the things I did understand about myself I didn’t like – I hated being shy, being an introvert, being a homebody. I was filled up with anxiety every single day, but didn’t know what to call this incessant panic and fear I carried with me every day.

I’ve grown in the past five years, but I still have a lot – a lot – of growing to do. And part of that growing involves learning how to be unapologetically myself.

Being unapologetically myself means…

Embracing my introverted ways and realizing two to three hours is my limit with being around people.

Learning to be okay that I’m in my mid-twenties and still live at home. This is not a character flaw. This is just my part of my story.

Understanding that I am a highly sensitive person that gets easily overwhelmed and doesn’t like loud spaces or chaotic environments. And that I most likely get my feelings hurt waaaaay more often than other people.

Opening up about my faith and the role it plays in my life, even if I do feel like the worst follower of Christ 95% of the time.

Realizing that I’m just a quiet person. I’m not the one initiating conversation or making small talk to strangers. And while I will open up and be more outgoing the more I know a person/group, I’m also always going to be the quietest one in the gathering.

Owning the fact that I am a homebody and that nights in will always be more glorious to me than nights out. I don’t like being out past 11 p.m. any night of the week because it just makes me anxious, and I really don’t like being busy on weeknights.

Recognizing that it’s okay if I don’t have a lot of experience with guys. There’s nothing wrong with being 26 and realizing the furthest you’ve gone with a guy is first base.

These are my truths and writing them out helps me to see who I am and what I want. I’m not ready to reactivate my online dating profiles, but I’m doing the work to get to a point where I can do so. I think one of the first steps is discovering what I am really seeking from a relationship because there’s no point in dating unless I understand why I want it. And, through these truths, I can start to form a picture of not only what I want out of dating, but how I want to date. But perhaps that’s a post for another time.

For now, I want to embrace these truths I’ve listed above. And start to recognize that it’s okay to be single, it’s okay to have very little experience with guys, and it’s okay to be me. I believe dating will come a lot more easily once I own that.

My good friend Nora sent me the above pin last week, and some of the “rules” made me laugh because they are so true. Like, #3. Dutch is constantly following me around and I can’t count how many times I’ve accidentally kicked him in the ribs because he was just standing behind me when I turned around! Or #6, which is just something I’ve had to get used to. He always finds his way into my bathroom. Always.

There were a few dachshund rules missing, though. And, so, I thought I would add some rules of my own…

Rule #11: They are blanket hogs.

Dachshunds are burrowers by nature, so they love hiding under blankets. And Dutch has a very specific burrowing technique, where he basically pushes me to the side as he finds the perfect spot for him to lay. I’ve woken up in the middle of the night more than once to find out I have a tiny section of my comforter to myself, while Dutch has created a little fort for himself under my blanket.

Rule #12: They can’t control their licker.

Oh, yes, expect to be kissed and kissed frequently when you have a dachshund. My mom doesn’t let Dutch kiss her much, but what can I say? I’m a big softie and I let him. My favorite is when I’m laying on the couch and he jumps up next to me, walks up to sit on my chest and lick my face. It’s just a “Hi. I’m happy you’re mine,” kinda kiss. (Also, as a single gal, it’s really the only “action” I’m getting…)

Rule #13: They are professional snugglers.

Dachshunds understand snuggling. Like to the extreme. It’s very rare that I’m laying on the couch and Dutch isn’t snuggled against my side. Or on my legs. Sometimes, I’ll even lay him on my chest and he’ll sleep there. (Because he isn’t spoiled at all!) I adore snuggling with him, which is funny because I’m totally not a touchy-feely kinda girl. But there are few things in life that feel as sweet and good as Dutch snuggled against me.

Rule #14: They can be stubborn little jerks.

I am a bit glad Dutch came into my life when he was seven and completely house-broken because I hear dachshunds are a pain to house-train, due to their stubborn nature. And Dutch, oh, Dutch is incredibly stubborn. His stubbornness really comes to life when we’re taking a walk outside and he wants to go one way and I want to go another. He’ll dig his feet into the ground, stiffen his body, and resist my tug on the leash. And unless I want to drag him (which no, hello animal abuse!) the way I want to go, he gets his way. I call him a jerk at least once a day during our walks because REALLY. It’s ridiculous.

Rule #15: Their bark is worse than their bite.

Dachshunds are notorious for having really loud, deep barks. I read an article and the reason for this is due to their large lung size and barrel-like chest. It produces a bark that is much better suited for a large dog! I’ve had people hear Dutch bark before and then actually see him and say to me, “I did not expect that bark to come out of that body!”

Rule #16: Dachshunds, especially smooth-haired, get intensely attached to a single person.

I know this is very, very true for Dutch. He is super attached to me. He follows me everywhere and sleeps with me every night. I often wonder what he’d do if I ever brought a boy home because he gets very jealous when other people try to hug me. Often, my mom will try to give me a hug when Dutch is next to me, and he’ll yelp and growl and try to push his body between us. It’s kinda hilarious, so we often play it up just to make him even more jealous.

It’s been noted that dachshund owners are supremely loyal to the breed and I can attest to that. I honestly think I will continue to own dachshunds because they are just the best dogs. They are so much fun to have around, so adorable and so snuggly. Their personalities are just the greatest, and I love that little boy with every fiber of my being. He’s so spoiled, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. 🙂

If you have a dog, what are some of his or her (or their!) personal quirks? If you don’t have a pet, what are some of YOUR personal quirks?

On Sunday, Dutch will turn 12 years old. This makes him 64 in human years. (Fun fact: small dogs age slower than larger dogs and only age about 4 human years per dog year after age two. He’s still a young’in!) We are planning a visit to a fun dog park in our area and he’ll get his own cupcake to eat while we sing happy birthday to him. He will have no idea what’s going on, other than the fact that hey! My girls are taking me to a dog park AND I get to eat human food? IS IT MY BIRTHDAY OR SOMETHING?! But my mom and I will enjoy our day with the special guy in our lives. And because it’s his birthday this weekend, here are five fun facts about my little man:

1) He is an extreme cuddler. I think all dachshunds tend to be so if you don’t like cuddling, don’t get a dachshund. Dutch wants to be next to me at all times and that means as close as possible as he can get. I love to lay him on my chest and have him just sleep with his face tucked under my chin. Sometimes, he’ll even fit his head next to my face and sleep that way. Look, I am not the most touchy-feely person by nature, but I am with him. I can’t get enough of him and his snuggly ways!

2) He’s an explorer and would probably regularly go on hour-long walks multiple times a day if we let him. We have a lot of open grass and lakes around our apartment community and Dutch loves just sniffing and exploring the area. Sometimes, I’ll let him take me on a hike to wherever his nose is telling him to go, and sometimes, it just drives me mad. My mom’s fiancee, though, lets him take Dutch around wherever Dutch wants to go when they go on a walk. Let’s just say that dog has more people wrapped around his little paw than he knows what to do with!

3) He loves napping, blankets, sleeping under blankets, kissing me, table food, being under our feet when we’re in the kitchen, being outside, running up and down the stairs as fast as he can, babies, and I think he believes he is my boyfriend. He dislikes the beach, taking a bath, being alone, when my mom tries to hug me when I’m holding him (he barks at her, silly boy!), too much commotion, and other dogs. (He’s a bit antisocial, which I can’t say makes me sad. Other people will bring their dogs over to Dutch and he could care less. He’ll give them a cursory sniff and then meander on his way. He can’t be bothered.)

4) He loves me. He loves me with the kind of devotion you will only get from a dog, completely loyal and fiercely protective. He always has to be near me when I’m at home and he sleeps with me at night. I honestly feel weird if I’m ever alone in my bed without him. The funniest part of this is that, while he does love my mom, he just loves me more. (Sorry, Mom!) Sometimes, I’ll be sitting at the dining room table, my mom on the couch, and Dutch in his bed. My mom will ask him to sit with her and he ignores her. Then I’ll get up from the table and lay down on the couch and within .44 seconds, he’s at my side. It’s basically a running joke now.

5) I talk to him all the time. Like, all dog owners do this, right? I tell him about my day, ask him about his, tell him about upcoming events and sometimes, even my hopes and dreams. My mom and I also like to talk for him, in this really crazy, made-up voice and in our heads, he is extremely sarcastic and hilarious. Maybe I’ll get this on camera one day (but probably not, because it would be incredibly embarrassing).

If it’s not apparent, I love Dutch with my whole heart and soul. It’s a scary kind of love, because he takes up such a big piece of my heart and my life and I am terrified of the day I will lose him. But it will happen, hopefully not for another few years, and I will be okay, and there’s no point in dwelling on it now. For right now, I just have to enjoy every single minute I get with him.

Share a random fact about your dog or cat! If you don’t have an animal, how about just a random fact about YOU!

Today is my mom’s 48th birthday. I don’t think she would mind too much for the whole Internet knowing her age, because she looks pretty damn good for her age, mother of two kids in their mid-twenties, grandmother of a precocious four-year-old.

Anyone who knows me knows I have a strong connection with my mom. We’ve always been close and she’s always been the first person I want to tell any good news to. We are comfortable in silence and comfortable chit-chatting about anything and everything. We like (mostly) the same TV shows and are learning that we don’t always have to have the same opinions.

She’s the reason for my faith, as she took my brother and I to church every Sunday, prayed with us, and talked to us about morals and what’s right and wrong. Even when my father thought it was a waste.

She is an incredible woman. She had to be brave and courageous and gutsy by making the decision to leave my father and move back in with her parents – in her 30’s, with two teenagers in tow. That couldn’t have been an easy decision to make and must have felt like such a step backward. She did it because she knew she deserved better, because she knew we deserved better, and because she never wanted us to believe that marriage was supposed to be filled with strife and hatred and fighting.

Since then, her life has taken a complete turn. She was unhappy as a day care teacher, so she quit her job and took on a completely different career path. She was unhappy with being overweight so she joined Weight Watchers and lost 80 pounds through diet and exercise (and has kept the majority of the weight off for almost five years). She opened herself up to love again and found a fabulous guy – a man she will most likely marry.

This year has been one of painful growth for the two of us. As much as I wanted my mom to find love and be able to experience what a real relationship – one with a good man who loves you and wants good things for you – is like, it was hard on me. It’s been the two of us for so long that adding a third person was awkward. I guess I just expected to absolutely love anyone my mom loves. I expected him to slide in smoothly to our family dynamic and everything to be easy. It didn’t happen that way. He didn’t fit in seamlessly and I didn’t like him from the get go. I mean, I didn’t hate him and I felt like a big huge brat because he treated my mom well, but we just didn’t have any sort of connection.

Gradually, though, we’re both learning how to act around one another. I’m an adult so it’s not as if I need a father figure in my life and he doesn’t need to be super close to me. We can coexist and I can be happy for my mom and it will all work out. We have one super big thing in common in that we both love my mom and want what’s best for her. I know he is what’s best for her and she deserves this chance at love more than anyone in the world.

My mom is the best woman I know. She is kind and giving and loving. She supports me, no matter what I want to do. She is my cheerleader and always knows the right advice to give me. She listens to me complain, deals with my freak-outs, and loves me even at my most unlovable. She has had to be a mother and father to my brother and me and raised us right, even though we had all the odds stacked against us. She’s not perfect, she has her faults, but I couldn’t imagine having anyone else as my mother. This year, I have learned that she is so much more than just my mother – she is a woman and she deserves love. And her boyfriend is the luckiest to have her. The luckiest.

We’ve been celebrating her birthday all weekend – with a trip to the movies on Saturday, the beach on Sunday, and with a birthday dinner tonight.

Today, it’s all about my mom. I feel blessed to be her daughter and can’t wait to see what this year holds for her. A ring, perhaps?

“Not as sad as I’d be about Mother’s Day, though. A lot of people have crappy fathers, but Mother’s Day would be really hard.”

Yesterday was my sixth fatherless Father’s Day. Is it getting easier to not be with my father on the days I should be with him?

Yes… and no. I still get sad. It still hurts not to be with him when I could celebrate this day with him. It’s not as if he’s died and I’ll never get to see him again, except it’s almost as if it is.

A few months ago, I saw my father. I knew instinctively it was him. He was riding his bike down the very same (busy) street I live on. His signature bandanna wrapped around his head, his legs pumping. He turned his head in my direction right as I passed him and I looked straight at him. He didn’t see me, he was looking above the traffic but I know it was him. My face heated, my heart rate rose, and my breath came in spurts.

“Was that Dad?” my mom asked. She was driving us to lunch.

I nodded. “Yep. That was Dad.”

It’s weird, you know? Here he is, living this life without his kids. He’s working and biking and shopping and laughing and sleeping and hugging and making memories without us. As if we don’t even exist. This man who used to be my entire world, who used to make me laugh so much and played with me and walked me to the bus stop and gave me silly nicknames and sat with me as my brother and mother rode roller coasters at theme parks and… he’s just a memory now. I just have memories of how much fun I used to have with him. Memories of the way he made me feel loved and safe and happy.

I’m no longer mad. It’s been so long that the anger has dissipated, leaving in its wake pure sadness. I want a relationship with him again. I want to see him, hear him say my name, hug him. I want to have a father again.

But I also know that I need more from him. I have so many good memories of him. But I also have so many awful memories of him. Memories of him cursing at me when I spill a drink. Memories of him taking my brother and I to play tennis and him only playing with my brother, because my skill level just wasn’t as good as their’s. Memories of him holding a knife up to my mom’s throat or yelling at her or abusing her. Memories of an answering machine message where he threatened to kill my mom. Memories of him berating me, making me feel less than worthy, making me feel that I needed to do more and be more for him to love me.

I couldn’t have that man in my life anymore. I deserved better. I deserved a father who loved me unconditionally, foibles and all. I had to sever the relationship. I did it because it was the only way I knew I would be able to learn to love who I was. The only way I would learn to accept myself. It was hard and scary and I worried every day if I was being selfish and a brat.

Five and a half years later, I know I made the right choice. For the first time in my life, I stood up for myself. I let him know, in no uncertain terms, that I would no longer be treated that way and I was worth so much more. I no longer judge who I am by my dad’s standards. I learned to love my shy, quiet, introverted nature. I learned to stand up for myself, put myself out there, and above all, love Stephany just as she is. Stephany is a wonderful, wonderful person and he is missing out on me. He is missing out on so much.

Father’s Day will always be a hard day, knowing I made the decision to shut the door on my relationship with my father. While I know I made the best choice for me, there’s always that niggling feeling of guilt. I wonder constantly what he thinks of me. Is he sad? Mad? Apathetic? I just don’t know. Living a fatherless life is hard. I can’t relate to those with wonderful fathers and I can’t relate with those with fathers who have died. Thankfully, there is an army of us – those with deadbeat dads who can’t help but feel like we lost out on something special with the fathers that were handed to us. We’re the ones who wake up on Father’s Day always a little melancholy, a little sad.

Father’s Day will always be hard, but every year, I get less and less sad about it. I choose to focus on the men in my life (such as my grandfather and my brother and my uncles) who have stepped up and showed me the true worth of a father. They are the ones to be celebrate and loved. They are the ones this holiday is all about.

To my father, I love you tremendously and not a day goes by where I’m not thinking of you. I hope, with all my heart, you understand why I had to find my way without you and I pray that one day we will both be able to have a relationship again and mend the hurt in our hearts.

I was fifteen when my great-grandma passed away. I remember feeling sad, but not a crushing sense of despair. She was 82, living in a nursing home, and dealing with dementia. I felt more sad watching my grandma deal with losing her mother, than the actual sense of losing my great-grandma.

I remember a few things about Nanny. I remember how her house used to smell – like spices. I remember the times when my mom and I would bring her a simple chocolate shake and hamburger from Steak N Shake and spend time with her, when she was living alone after my Pop-Pop died. I remember the time Nanny called my brother and I “nuttier than fruitcakes” during one of our bickering moments. I remember visiting her at the nursing home, a football game always on the TV and her spitfire nature.

Bits and pieces – that’s all I remember.

A few months ago, my great-aunt gave me something that will keep my great-grandma alive in my memory forever. While we were never close, she was still my great-grandma, mother to the greatest woman I know, my own grandma, and she holds a special place in my heart.

This is Nanny’s Bible.

There are scribbles in every margin of this Bible with her words.

There are circled verses and underlined passages and exclamations to draw my attention to.

There are notes, tucked between the tissue-thin paper. Notes that further delve into the Bible and give me insight into her world.

It’s an amazing gift. I hold an incredibly important part of my Nanny in my hands. I couldn’t have asked for a gift that means more to me than this.

It makes me miss her. This woman that I barely knew and didn’t try to get to know. I miss her.

It makes me realize how important relationships are – it’s so easy to get caught up in daily life, to let past offenses and hurt feelings drive a wedge between the people you care about – but relationships are important. Family is important. My grandma and my grandpa (affectionately called Pops) are not going to be around forever (though I swear my Pops will live until he’s 105!) and it’s important to spend as much time as I can with them now. Drink in their wisdom and their knowledge and their stories and their love now. Not when it’s too late. Not when I’ll only have my memories.

This Bible is a precious, precious gift and I am so glad I was the one who stepped up and asked to have it. I want to treat it right, use it well, and learn more about my Nanny through her notes and scribbles.

Have you ever been given a personal gift from a loved one that has passed away?

Meet Stephany

Hi, I'm Stephany! I'm a 30-year-old single lady, living in Florida. I love taking cruises, reading, writing, and spending time with family and friends. I am an introvert and a Highly Sensitive Person, and I'm quite proud and pleased with the quiet life I lead. On this blog, you will find stories about my life, book reviews, travel experiences, and more. Welcome!

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